


Boldly Go

by tracy7307



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe: Star Trek, Fluff, Horror, M/M, Romance, Star Trek: The Next Generation Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-12 11:04:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracy7307/pseuds/tracy7307
Summary: First, Steve finds Billy -- steps up to his side before looking up to see the assignment. Billy smiles and nods upward.Hargrove, William. Engineering. USS Hawk.Harrington, Steven. Security. USS Hawk.Steve clamps his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “It’s a galaxy class ship. Maybe it’s big enough to hold your ego?”“Not sure it’s big enough for all of that hair, pretty boy. Sorry.EnsignPretty Boy.”A Star Trek AU for harringrove where Steve and Billy shake away the ghosts of their parents to explore, seek, and boldly go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed work of 4 chapters. Posting on Friday/Monday schedule until all chapters are posted. 
> 
> If you're not familiar with Trek, for Ch. 1, it's helpful to know that Billy is half Betazoid -- a race of humanoids from the planet Betazed who have the ability to read emotions. Physically their only difference is having black irises.
> 
> These events take place during _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ era.

**Stardate 44333; Earth Date 2 May, 2367 -- San Francisco**

Restlessness simmers under Steve’s skin -- he feels like he just might crack open. His knee bounces rapidly under his desk. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms -- can’t take staring at his computer interface for one more moment. He feels a manic need to _get the fuck out_ of his quarters before he splits in two with all of -- whatever this is. The doors to his quarters swish open as he walks quickly through them.

Starfleet Academy’s graduation looms close -- only two weeks away. The anticipation of the event builds with each passing day, and it makes Steve unfocused. _Nervous_. He paces quickly through the common room, toward the dormitory’s exit. 

Out of his peripheral vision, Steve sees Billy watching him with dark eyes from a chair in the common room. Billy had told Steve that his eyes come from his Betazoid mother, irises that are slightly larger than a human’s and all black. From day one, Billy’s eyes -- wide, black, and intense -- have turned Steve into a bumbling idiot, dumbstruck, as if he doesn’t look like an idiot most of the time anyway. Billy looks at Steve and any thought he was trying to convey turns into _beautiful_ and he has to _fight_ with his mind to get back on topic.

Billy springs up from the chair and catches up to Steve. “Want some company, King Steve?” He flashes the flask of rum from his pocket that he’d brought back from Betazed with a wink and a wicked little grin, tongue poking out from between his teeth. 

They settle on a bench away from the street lights, across the street from a dance club teeming with cadets who are beginning their celebrations. Trying to find escape or take off the edge. Trying to get _laid_. The music booms from the building, reverberating in Steve’s chest, and lights flash from the windowed walls -- purple, blue, orange. The colors reflect on Billy’s skin and in his blond hair and black eyes and make him look even more ethereal than he usually does. 

“You tell him yet?” Billy asks as he takes a long drink from his flask and hands it over. He regards the club through half-lidded eyes and impossibly long eyelashes. “Because you’re a moron if you didn’t, Harrington.”

Steve tilts his head back and lets the alcohol burn down his throat -- shakes his head before speaking. “I just stood there and nodded and told him what he wanted to hear. _Yes dad. No dad. Just fine, dad_. He didn’t remember that I was coming on board today. Too focused on his interface to even look up at me.”

Billy takes back the flask and turns to face Steve, eyebrows wrinkled -- looks at him as if he suddenly sprouted Andorian antennae. “Your dad is the _captain_ of the USS Jefferies. And this is your big, brilliant plan?” Billy waves his hand at Steve. “You’re just gonna let him think that you’re going to fuckin _command school_ , that -- that you’re gonna become a Captain someday. Like _him_. And he won’t know that your major is Security until he shows up for your graduation?” Billy cocks an eyebrow in question. 

Steve takes the flask and drinks deeply. All of it sounds fucking ridiculous when it’s repeated back to him, and he knows he’ll catch hell for it and that it’s dumb, but. Whatever. “Yeah that’s pretty much it.” 

Billy turns to face the club again. His knee knocks against Steve’s, and Steve returns the pressure. Steve likes that they can have touches like this -- friendly. Companionable. It wasn’t really that long ago that their touches were shoves and punches that ended in blood and bruises and no relief to their respective simmering anger. “You’re _good_ at this security shit -- tactics. Survival. Weaponry.” 

“I know.” 

“So tell him that.” 

Steve sighs. “Not that easy, Billy.” 

Billy rolls his eyes. “I don’t understand why humans don’t just _say_ what they _mean_.”

Steve looks up at the stars. He sees the shadows on the moon’s surface and imagines Billy’s eyes -- can’t find it in himself to look to his left and see it for himself. “We can’t all be empaths, you know.”

“Not everyone can be this perfect. You’re right.”

“Fuck you. So what am I thinking then?”

“That’s not how it works and you know it, dumbass.”

“Fine. So. What am I feeling?”

Billy pauses. “Nervous. You feel a little edgy.” 

“ _Of course_ I’m edgy. My dad is gonna kill me and you know that, so. This is not really an impressive ‘display’ of your skills, Billy.” Steve takes his eyes from the stars above and looks at Billy and that was a fucking mistake because his blond curls are touching his shoulders -- his hair’s grown so long, Steve notices. And Billy’s looking at him -- black eyes reading him. Steve feels uncomfortable. Laid bare.

“You feel happy, too. You’re _content_.” 

Steve drinks again from the flask and tries to calm the rabbiting in his heart. “Must be this fucking rum. Jesus, what kinda shit are they distilling up on Betazed?”

Billy snatches back the flask. “Pure fuel, pretty boy. Pure fuel.”

**Stardate 44372; Earth Date 16 May, 2367 -- San Francisco**

On graduation day, Captain Harrington doesn’t show up until the ceremony has already started, and Steve’s thankful for that. One awkward conversation saved until _after_ the speeches -- until _after_ Steve gets his assignment. Then, and not until then will Steve face whatever John Harrington decides to say. Or do.

Steve’s attended a few graduation ceremonies in previous years and this one is no different -- a speaker talks about honor, discipline, curiosity, discovery, exploration, science, and the obligatory _from the stars, knowledge_. Billy sits to Steve’s right because alphabetically that’s where he lands, but Steve’s glad for it. Glad to have a close friend by his side right now, at this moment when he will step forward to the life that he wants and face the repercussions of that choice. He knows Billy will have his back through it all. 

It’s so different from when they first met -- days when they pressed each other’s bruises, hoping it would ease their pain.

\--

First year. They’re suiting up to play parrises squares -- Steve struggles with his padded uniform. The new guy smiles and places one hand on Steve’s side while the other zips up the back.

“Thanks.” A blush blooms up Steve’s neck as he’s met with they guy’s dark eyes and long eyelashes. “I’m Steve Harrington. You’re -- Hargrove, right? Billy Hargrove?”

The smile falls from the guy’s face. “That’s _not_ my name.” 

“Sorry. I thought that was your name?”

Steve’s slammed back against the wall, an ion mallet hovering in front of his face.

“ _Not. My. Fucking. Name._ ”

\--

Steve spends his entire two week holiday alone. He enjoys the solitude at first; he’s surrounded constantly at the Academy, but loneliness wins and he scrolls through friends’ pictures on his PADD.

Families hugging. Making faces. Posing in kitchens. 

Steve looks around at the vaulted ceiling and empty walls. Feels constricted by silence. 

Steve returns to school early. It takes one look and a smirk and Hargrove is on him. No matter how satisfying the crack of Hargrove’s fist or Steve’s head slamming against the ground, he finds he cannot replace the emptiness in his life with fists and blood.

\--

In second year, they’re in class arguing over the construction of a hand phaser.

“ _King Steve_ , always gotta be right,” Hargrove sneers. “The Captain’s son. So entitled.”

Steve sees red. “Fuck you.”

Hargrove steps close. Gets in Steve’s face with wide black eyes focused. “That’s the best you got? Aren’t you like a playboy or something? Where’s your smooth talk? From what I hear you fucked, what -- two humans, an Orion, a Bajoran, and a Klingon?” 

Steve licks his lips -- Hargrove’s eyes follow the movement. “You interested? Haven’t tried a Betazoid yet.” 

Hargrove’s fist connects with Steve’s jaw.

\--

Steve’s in the alley behind the club months later, wobbling. A little drunk. A _lot_ drunk. He raises his fists. Hargrove faces him, waiting for Steve’s move.

Steve drops his fists. “Hargrove.” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He can hear himself slurring. “You _sick_ of this yet? We’ve been for fighting two years, man. You _sick_ of it? Cause I’m _sick_ of-” He gestures between them -- hopes Hargrove figures it out.

“Yeah. I think I am.” Hargrove sniffs, runs a hand over the back of his neck, and walks away.

\--

Steve’s drunk in the alley again, sitting next to Hargrove.

Three bottles of Romulan ale loosen Steve’s lips. “Why do you hate your last name?”

Hargrove’s jaw twitches. “Betazed is matriarchal. My mom’s last name - my last name - is Saral. _Was_ Saral.” 

Steve opens another bottle -- hands it to Hargrove. To Billy.

“When she died I had to come to Earth to live with my dad. He saw me and his first emotions were disgust. Loathing. I’d have to be _Hargrove_ to live under his roof, so. I hate that name.”

“Saral. It’s nice.”

Billy smiles.

\--

Fourth year, a vendor at the outdoor market claims he has a bottle of Cardassian brandy and that Steve _deserves_ a graduation splurge. Steve follows him down into an alley.

Suddenly Billy appears, slamming the guy against the wall -- jams his forearm to the guy’s chest. His black eyes are wide, wild. “He’s _deceiving_ you,” Billy snarls. “He wants to rob you.” 

Steve touches his silver necklace with an emerald pendant -- his mother’s necklace. 

“Thanks,” Steve says as they walk away. “I guess empaths are useful.” 

Billy shoves his shoulder against Steve’s. “Fuck you, pretty boy.”

\--

_William Hargrove._ The commencement speaker calls Billy up to the stage to receive his commendation. Billy glances at Steve quickly as he gets up -- rolls his eyes at his own name. Steve laughs and watches as Billy stands in his dress uniform in front of the speaker, looking cool and collected.

Steve can’t help himself and looks back over his shoulder -- wants to see what the expression on Billy’s dad’s face, but doesn’t see him in the crowd. Granted he’s only met the guy once, but Steve would recognize those cold blue eyes anywhere. “Jesus,” Steve mutters to himself. It’s not like Steve has a great relationship with his dad, but at least he bothered to show up. 

“Cadet Hargrove has shown himself to be adept at systems design, nanotechnology, and material engineering. Most notably, though, he proved through multiple demonstrations, simulations, and live consultations that he has gained invaluable knowledge of warp operation systems. We have no doubt that Cadet Hargrove will serve his vessel well as an Ensign in Engineering.” 

Steve puts his fingers to his lips and gives two short whistles -- his call signal to Billy over the last few months. Billy looks down and winks as he accepts his scroll and exits the stage. 

_Steven Harrington_. Steve puffs out a breath. “It’s fine. It’s okay,” he assures himself. He stands in front of the speaker and she regards him with a kind smile. He focuses on her as she speaks -- refuses to see what his dad’s expression might look like. 

“Cadet Harrington has impressed _all_ of the staff at the Academy with his talents. He shows critical thinking in various tactical simulations, has mastered usage of most of the weapons in our armory, and employs quick-thinking and effective strategy in combat situations. He will be an invaluable asset to his ship as an Ensign in Security.” 

Steve’s eyes stay trained on her as he smiles, each of his actions deliberate -- he shakes her hand and accepts his scroll. He successfully avoids peering into the audience and makes his way offstage to the wing where all the cadets are milling. A display overhead lists their names and starship assignments. 

That display represents the next several years of his life and he’s _ready_ for it, has been _ready_ to step out on his own and follow a path that will take him away from a predetermined course -- to fully realize what he is _meant_ to do. That he’s talented and skilled, but with a weapon in hand -- not in the captain’s chair. Not where his father wants him to be. It’s taken a few years of panic attacks, quiet conversations with other cadets, and encouragement from instructors to see his name up here, in Security, where he belongs.

First, he finds Billy -- steps up to his side before looking up to see the assignment. Billy smiles and nods upward.

_Hargrove, William. Engineering. USS Hawk._

_Harrington, Steven. Security. USS Hawk._

Steve clamps his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “It’s a galaxy class ship. Maybe it’s big enough to hold your ego?”

“Not sure it’s big enough for all of that hair, pretty boy. Sorry. _Ensign_ Pretty Boy.” 

Steve startles at the sound of a voice behind his shoulder. “You know, Steven, you can still enroll in command school. Even as a security officer.” John Harrington’s approach makes Steve jump back from Billy. The captain wedges himself between the graduates, facing Steve and with his back to Billy. He’s wearing his dress uniform complete with four gold pips along the shoulder that indicate his rank. “It’s not too late.”

“Dad,” Steve says -- his voice seems pitched higher. He’s faced simulations in combat training that still haunt his dreams, yet this scenario might be the one that scares him the most. He stands straighter. “I’m not-” Steve’s mouth turns dry. He shifts his weight. “Dad, I’m not cut for command. I mean I took a few classes first year, but that’s not where I hit my stride.”

“You’re young. You don’t know _what_ you want yet, son. I’ll have a word with Owen Paris. You can start next month.” 

“Sir,” Billy says, stepping around to stand by Steve’s side. His tone sounds a lot like Billy from year one and Steve starts to feel a little panicky. “Owen Paris was the instructor who encouraged Steve to stop the command courses and continue his tactical studies.” 

Steve’s dad’s stares silently for a moment. “I don’t think we’ve met yet, young man. Captain John Harrington. USS Jefferies.” 

Billy looks down at the proffered hand and regards it for a moment before taking it. Steve wonders what kind of emotions Billy’s reading from his dad to make him this bold. “Ensign Billy Hargrove. USS Hawk.” 

Steve takes it all back about the simulation nightmares -- thinks that maybe Billy squaring up with John Harrington _is_ his worst nightmare.

A man in his dress uniform with four pips at his shoulder approaches their group. “Oh, hey. Introductions. Nice. I’m the ghost of Christmas past.”

“Jim.” Steve’s dad says, and the smile that fixes across his face is the same one that he wears for family pictures. Forced and fake. “It’s been a while. Good to see you.” He shakes the other captain’s hand. 

“Yeah, you too John. Sure.” This captain, _Jim_ , sounds caustic, annoyed, and disinterested all at once, and none of these are tones that Steve can recall _any_ one ever using to address his father. “You done harassing my crew now? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind having a word with them.” 

“I was just telling my son here that he’ll be enrolling in command school next month. I’m sorry to let you know you’ll be short a crewman.” 

A beat passes as the captain looks at Steve’s dad. His eyes never leave John Harrington’s face as he says, “Is that right? You were _telling_ your son, your _grown_ \-- how old are you Ensign?”

“Twenty-one, sir.”

“-your twenty-one year old son what he’s gonna do at Starfleet? Ensign Harrington, do you _want_ to go to command school next month?” 

Steve’s heart hammers against his sternum -- he feels like he’s about to pass out, unsure if it’s out of joy or terror, and he says, “no sir.”

For the first time, the new captain turns to look at Steve. He’s got lots of brown hair, a scruffy beard, a bold jaw and brow, and a stark countenance. “And you realize that the option is always open to you to take command courses down the road, if that’s something you would want to do?” 

“Yes sir.” Steve feels like he might be floating. 

“There you go, John. Your son has spoken.” 

John Harrington has just been _dismissed_ by this man. He holds the captain’s gaze for a moment, then looks at Steve. “I’ll talk to you later, Steven. Congratulations.” He paces quickly through the beaming graduates and their families.

The captain turns to Billy. “I take it you’re not bound for command school, either, Ensign Hargrove?”

“Not immediately, sir,” Billy replies -- thinks about it. “But maybe someday.” 

The captain looks between them. “I’ve heard good things about both of you. Harrington, Admiral Paris tells me that you took him down on three different occasions with no weapon whatsoever?” 

And now Steve feels it -- pride swelling in his chest. “Yes sir. But I think he was pulling his punches a few times.”

The captain barks a laugh. “Owen Paris doesn’t pull _shit_ , Ensign. Hargrove, apparently you learned warp technology so well that you prevented breeches in every simulation thrown at you.” 

Billy smiles brightly. “That’s true, sir.” 

“Good. Glad to have both of you. You’ll report to the Hawk in three weeks. My first officer will send you the details and I’ll meet you when you come aboard.” 

“Thank you sir,” Billy says, and Steve repeats it.

The captain starts to turn but quickly turns back. “Sorry. Your dad threw me off there, Harrington. Didn’t even introduce myself, jesus.” He shakes both of their hands and says, “Captain Jim Hopper, USS Hawk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discomfort prickles along Steve’s skin -- makes his heartbeat pick up. _The heebie jeebies_ , Billy had once called this sensation after he learned the old-timey Earth phrase -- used it to describe how he felt when they explored an abandoned building they’d found on Earth. Steve grips his phaser tighter. His flashlight catches a splash of dark red up the control panel to his left. “Sir,” Steve says, and stops. 
> 
> Clarke raises his medical scanner. “Blood. It’s human.” 
> 
> Steve lifts his phaser. His eyes run over the perimeter, poised and ready for imminent attack, when Billy says, “I’m getting two mental signatures. Angry -- both of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helpful to know for non-Trek readers: Joyce and Will are Bajoran -- from a planet called Bajor. They're humanoid with ridges along the bridge of their noses and often wear an ornate earring on one ear.

**Stardate 44435; Earth Date 8 June, 2367 -- USS Hawk**

When Billy and Steve beam aboard the USS Hawk, Captain Hopper is indeed there to greet them. He’s wearing his standard uniform, red for command, and standing next to him is a human male and a female with the trademark Bajoran ridges along the bridge of her nose and the elaborate Bajoran earring on her right ear. “Welcome to the Hawk, ensigns. Harrington, Hargrove, this is my first officer, Commander Powell, and this is one of my science offers, Lieutenant Commander Byers.”

As they exchange handshakes, Hopper’s badge chirps and a woman’s voice says _Captain, you better get down to the bridge because that junk trader Murray is **insisting** that the Ferengi are pilfering his cargo again and-_. 

Steve admires how Hopper’s whole face does this amazing transformation from pleasant to annoyed as he rubs his temple and replies, “ _Okay_ lieutenant, just, tell him I’m _busy_ will you?”

_Sir, he’s insisting he won’t be put off again by the Federation. He says it’s a conspiracy against him and won’t cut off communication until-_

“Okay, okay OKAY. Jesus. On my way.” He starts stepping toward the doors. “Byers, show our new crew their quarters and take em on a little tour, please? Guys - rest up, get some food, and explore a bit tonight. You’ll be reporting for your assignments in the morning, so be ready.”

“Yes sir,” Billy and Steve say in unison.

“Powell, with me.” The doors swish open for Hopper and Powell falls in behind him, nodding once at Billy and Steve as he leaves.

Byers smiles up at them with big dark eyes and a mess of brown hair, and Steve feels at ease immediately with her. Billy’s not actively scowling at her, so he must be thinking the same thing, and Steve wonders what kind of emotions Billy’s getting from her. They follow her into the corridor as she says, “Gentlemen, why don’t I take you to your quarters where you drop off your things, and then we head to the mess hall for dinner?” 

Billy eyes her suspiciously. “Lieutenant, are you part Betazoid?”

She leads them down the hall to the turbolift. “Honey, I don’t need to be an empath to know that two young men like yourselves are hungry. _Lower deck_ ,” she states as they step inside the turbolift. “I have a son about your age, so I know a thing or two about boys with a bottomless pit of a stomach.”

Steve thinks about how to best phrase his question, knowing that her home planet is under occupation by a hostile force at the moment. “Is your son in Starfleet as well?” 

“No. Jonathan’s on Earth studying art. He seems to be taken with photography and 20th century Earth motion capture technology.” She sighs with a smile as they step out of the lift and start to round the hall of the lower deck. “He’s an old artistic soul. Girls on Bajor wouldn’t give him the time of day, but the girls on Earth all seem to swoon over him.”

“Do you have any other kids?” Steve asks.

“One. Another boy -- Will. He’s 13, so he’s on board with me and attends school here. He’s a sweet little thing. Not at all like me when I was his age,” she winks up at Billy like she _senses_ that about him. 

They arrive in front of a set of doors and she stops. “Your quarters, ensigns. I’ll wait out here while you get settled in.” 

The doors open as Steve and Billy approach. The room is like the small, typical shared room at the Academy. It has a desk with an interface, an armchair, several display shelves, sleek off-white surfaces, a bathroom with a sonic shower, and two bunk beds. 

Billy throws his bag on the lower bunk, and as Steve places his bag on top he feels the words coming and just can’t seem to stop them -- instantly regrets saying it as soon as he says, “You don’t mind being on the bottom?” 

Steve feels the blush blooming up his neck, thinks he might just consumed by fire when Billy takes a step closer, places a hand next to Steve’s shoulder on the edge of the top bunk, looks at him with black eyes through long, dark eyelashes and says just breathily enough to make Steve’s heartbeat pick up, “Pretty boy, most of the time I prefer bottom, but I don’t mind being on top every once in a while. I’m good whatever way you want to do it.”

Steve’s been terrified of moments like these for _years_. Billy showed up at the Academy with those eyes and eyelashes, with blond curls that begged to be touched, with abs, biceps, thick thighs, and an ass that Steve thought about more than once while jerking off quietly in his quarters. Steve has worried Billy can _read his feelings_ , and he’s tried to take that attraction and crumple it -- push it down, down. 

During the first two years, he simply buried it under anger. Desire took a back seat to bloody noses and sharp glares. After they’d put all of that aside, though, Steve had to _work_ to ensure it didn’t show. He trained his eyes to look away when they lingered too long. Learned a few Vulcan meditation techniques. Fought extra hard in his sparring sessions to get some of that extra energy out and had a few random fucks while thinking of black irises and blond curls. 

They’ve worked _hard_ to get themselves to this point; now it’s their conversations that are raw and stripped bare, rather than their knuckles. Steve’s greatest fear is disrupting that balance and losing his closest friend to a relationship complicated by sexual and romantic feelings. So he looks over Billy’s shoulder in their quarters -- slows his breathing, waves at the beds and says, “This is fine. We should get moving. Byers is still waiting for us.” 

He walks into the corridor and follows Byers to the mess hall, where her son Will joins them for dinner. Billy and Byers lean over their corner of the table, quietly sharing tales of mischief past, tales that include getting caught drunk in the common room with a bottle of Klingon blood wine (Byers and Captain Hopper) and reprogramming someone’s sonic shower to spray mud (Billy). 

Will is shy and quiet, but lights up when Steve asks him if he’s ever visited Starfleet in San Francisco -- he pulls a sketchpad from his bag and shows off drawings of various buildings and people he’d seen when visiting his brother on Earth a few months ago. 

Steve leans over to look at the sketchpad, looks at Will’s drawing of the fountain outside of Starfleet Headquarters, and he feels eyes on him. He looks up to see Billy glancing down at him as Byers talks to him. There’s a little smile there on Billy’s lips, and Steve tells Will, “Great job. Exactly how I remember it,” as he wills the blush to drain from his cheeks.

**Stardate 44492; Earth Date 29 June, 2367 -- USS Hawk**

Routine, for Steve, is both easy and welcome as he settles into life on the USS Hawk. It helps him maintain order in his day and carve out the beginnings of his new life. Wake up, shower, grab a bite to eat, report for duty, go on patrol, answer calls as needed, and eat dinner. Free time consists of sparring, training, fighting with the various weapons in the ship’s armory, blackjack with other security officers, and Lieutenant Commander Byers teaching him how to play springball in the holodeck.

More importantly, it doesn’t leave much room for old ghosts to haunt his mind -- ghosts that remind him of a father who spent most of Steve’s life vacillating between being neglectful and absent to being dismissive and judgemental. Of a mother who walked out ten years ago, leaving Steve feeling like a house without a roof, incomplete. Open to the elements. 

Days fall into weeks, until one day he’s reviewing the previous day’s security log when his combadge chirps. “Hopper to Harrington and Hargrove.” 

He looks up from his PADD and taps his badge. “Harrington here, sir.” 

“Hargrove here,” Billy says, probably from where he usually is -- engineering. 

“Ensigns, report to the bridge.” 

“Yes sir,” Billy and Steve both say in turn. 

Steve has a bit of a nervous flip in his stomach as they step onto the turbolift. Billy sighs deeply and says, “Calm _down_ , Harrington, jesus. I’m getting secondhand jitters even with all the mental blocks I’m trying to throw at you.” 

Steve puffs out a breath. Rolls his shoulders to release the tension. “Stay out of my head, dick.” 

“It’s _fine_. No bad emotions are coming from the bridge, okay? _Dick_ ,” Billy elbows Steve, and yeah, that _does_ make him feel a little better. 

Several people are milling around the bridge, going about their routine tasks. Hopper and Powell stand in the middle near the captain’s chair, consulting with Lieutenant Commander Clarke - a senior science officer - as well as Steve’s commanding officer, Lieutenant Commander Hammond. 

Hopper pauses when Billy and Steve approach. “We’ve picked up a distress signal from a small cargo vessel. It’s been on loop for over a year. Scans show a low energy signal and two life signs of unknown origin. There’s been no response to hails. I’ll be taking a boarding party of Clarke, Hammond, Harrington and Hargrove. Ensigns -- first away mission. You ready?” 

“Yes sir,” Steve says, and the tension built up inside of him uncoils, because he’s _trained_ for moments like this.

“Been ready, sir,” Billy says, cockiness edging his voice

“Good then. Let’s go.” He walks to the turbolift. “Powell, you have the bridge.”

“Aye captain,” Powell says. 

They beam aboard. The cargo vessel is thick with silence and darkness. Hopper leads them through the corridors followed by Hammond and Billy, then Clarke and Steve. They step softly, quietly, as if they might be tempting fate if the put down their feet too hard. Their flashlights slice the vessel’s darkness and particles float in and out of the light. The light reveals equipment covered in a film of dust, and interfaces appear as though they’ve long been dark. The ship’s metal structure is littered with dents and scratches. Portions of the frame are broken and twist up and out in menacing metal claws. 

Discomfort prickles along Steve’s skin -- makes his heartbeat pick up. _The heebie jeebies_ , Billy had once called this sensation after he learned the old-timey Earth phrase -- used it to describe how he felt when they explored an abandoned building they’d found on Earth. Steve grips his phaser tighter. His flashlight catches a splash of dark red up the control panel to his left. “Sir,” Steve says, and stops. 

Clarke raises his medical scanner. “Blood. It’s human.” 

Steve lifts his phaser. His eyes run over the perimeter, poised and ready for imminent attack, when Billy says, “I’m getting two mental signatures. Angry -- both of them.” 

Hammond checks his scanner. “Two life signs in that room.” He shines his flashlight to their right into an adjacent room and aims his weapon. Nothing appears in the beam of light as he shines it around.

“Phasers to stun,” Hopper says, and starts to step forward. 

There’s a sudden flash of movement close to the ground, and a rush of slick-looking greenish-grey skin charges toward Clarke, a creature that looks part dog, part lizard. Its face opens with nightmarish flower petals, baring a thousand sharp teeth to Clarke. When Steve hits it with his phaser blast, it limps to the side, its leg injured. It turns its growling face to Hopper and _wails_ as it rears back on its haunches. 

Steve switches his phaser to kill and takes aim. The creature lunges toward Hopper, who’s distracted by a second creature’s cry coming from the back of the room, and Steve aims for the side, hits it right where its ribcage should be. It screeches once and falls limp in its place, just a half meter from Hopper’s toes. 

Hammond and Hopper both fire their phasers as the second one comes bounding out from the back of the room, and it stops and falls over when the beams hit it. 

“Five _MORE_ ,” Billy shouts and suddenly the dog-lizards are _everywhere_. From his place near the edge of the corridor, Steve uses his phaser to fire on the one hurtling toward him from around a corner. Billy walks slowly down the corridor in the opposite direction and starts firing, takes down the second one, then the third. The fourth meets its end when it tries to surprise Hopper, squatting on its haunches in a far corner as if it’s about to pounce, but Hopper spins, sees the creature as it lunges, and manages to fire on it before it reaches him. 

Hammond, though, doesn’t hear the fifth. It crouches atop a towering relay unit then leaps down, landing heavily on Hammond’s back and taking him to the ground. It perches on Hammond’s shoulders, opens the petal mouth, and releases a hysterical gurgling hiss at the back of Hammond’s head. Steve fires his phaser on it. It falls over with a thump next to Hammond, who looks at it, then looks back at Steve, and says, “Thanks Harrington.” 

They regroup and collect themselves -- explore the rest of the shuttle for more possible hostile life forms and that’s when they find the bodies of eight passengers, all deceased. 

That night, they give the cargo vessel crew a quiet funeral aboard the Hawk. Hopper is brief and solemn -- his words respectful before they launch the torpedo casings containing the bodies into space. 

They make their reports about what transpired. A long conversation between Billy, Clarke, and the ship’s chief medical officer Dr. Owens turns up no valid reason why, between scanners and Billy’s empathic abilities, they detected the first two mental signatures of the creatures, but not the last five. 

Dr. Clarke can’t identify the creatures, so they give them names: _demodogs_

Hours later Billy and Steve return to their quarters where everything is dark and quiet. They both strip their uniforms and slide into their bunks, limp with exhaustion. Steve’s eyes slide shut. 

Billy’s voice cuts through the silence. “We gotta talk about them tonight, Harrington.” 

Steve wants to fall under the promising lull of a long rest -- Hopper had said they could report for duty late tomorrow. Steve and Billy have always had this unspoken _thing_ where they just know to avoid talking about their mothers, always talking around them like it’s an old wound that they know shouldn’t be reopened, but Steve understands why Billy’s pressing for it now. 

The sudden presence of thousand-toothed creatures trying to kill them makes this subject a little more urgent. 

Steve touches the edge of his bunk, fingers running over its smooth surface -- focuses on its sleek off-white color. Pain a decade old balls up in his chest. It burns hot and bright. “Not much to tell. I was eleven. Woke up, went to the kitchen, and she wasn’t there. Which was weird, because that’s where she usually was. I went to their bedroom and she wasn’t there, either. Or outside. Or anywhere. Dad didn’t seem surprised. Just said _she’s gone, son. We’ll have to carry on without her._ And that was that. He never explained anything else. I don’t even know if he looked for her. I never heard from her again. She packed her shit and took everything except for -”

“The necklace,” Billy says.

“Yeah. The necklace.” The emerald on the silver chain -- Steve wears it every day.

Billy shifts in his bunk so that his head is at the edge of the bed looking up at Steve. “Did you try looking for her?”

“No.” The word feels like charcoal in his mouth -- the guilt feels like lead in his chest. “I kind of always thought that - I guessed that she didn’t want to be found.” Tears slide from the corner of his eyes and he tries to hide the sniffle. It’s useless, though, to try and tuck away his emotion. Billy will know what’s in Steve’s heart before Steve can try and reel it back in. 

Steve wipes the tears and continues. “I didn’t asked my dad what happened, either. If he already knew she was leaving or if he knew where she went. It would be as useless to try and open my mouth to him, so. I just sat there and tried to forget about it. Forget her and this bullshit story. That any of it ever happened.”

Steve fondles the gem dangling from his neck. “So that’s it. My mom? She’s a ghost.” 

A heavy silence falls between them as Billy shifts in his bed again. 

“My story isn't much better, pretty boy.”

Steve decides to descend from his bunk. Maybe sit in the armchair so he can look at Billy as he talks. But when Steve’s feet hit the floor, Billy’s sitting at the edge of his bed, and he pats the spot next to him. Steve sinks down next to him. Places his hand close to Billy’s. 

“What was she like?”

Billy’s dark eyes fix on a spot on the carpet. “Kind of a free spirit. She had all of these dumb titles, you know? Daughter of the Seventh House, Keeper of the Shield of Retia -- just. It was a traditional, long thing that she hated saying. She was a Federation ambassador, but when she introduced herself it was just _Kelara_. She had lots of blonde hair and a warm smile. She’d take your hand between hers and say, _wonderful to meet you. I’m Kelara._.”

“So how did she-” Steve fumbles words around in his mind before the right way to phrase the question comes out. He doesn’t want to inflict more pain. “How did she meet your dad?” 

Billy tenses up a bit. “She said she was on Earth visiting Headquarters in San Francisco as a part of her ambassadorial duties. After a long day, she wanted a drink and ran into him at a lounge, and she was the type that if she wanted someone, she had no hangups about sleeping with them. That grossed me out knowing that as a kid but it was still pretty cool to have a mom who didn’t give a fuck about what others thought of her, you know? And it made me have less hangups, too, as I got older.” 

Steve nods his head and suddenly a _whole_ lot about Billy begins to make sense. 

“So she did what she wanted. I guess she wanted _him_. She said he was _enamored_ with her. And if someone is lying, we can tell,” Billy taps his temple with a little smile. 

“A few days of sunrises and strawberries. That’s how she always described their relationship. But she had to leave, and a month later she later told him that I was in the works, he wanted not a fucking thing to do with me.”

“Asshole.”

Billy starts toying with the edge of his blanket. “She told me I could call him if I chose but he likely wouldn’t want to talk to me. I mean growing up on a place as special Betazed with a mom like her was fucking amazing, and I had no urge to call this guy who didn’t give two shits about me. So I didn’t.”

Steve watches the movements of Billy’s fingers. “What was Betazed like?” 

“Lush. Green. Beautiful,” Billy says. He looks at Steve and the ambient blue light in the room causes his eyelashes to cast long shadows on his cheeks. “We lived by a river. I was making out with Nikael Rigen by that river when they came to tell me that she was dead.” 

“How old were you?” 

“Fourteen.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Billy says. “One second I was having my first kiss and the next I had two guys clearing their throats at me. At least they sent Nik away before telling me that she was on Bajor when a Cardassian bomb went off at the villa where she was staying.” 

Two tears slide down Billy’s cheeks and land on his thighs. He inhales deeply. 

Steve places his hand on Billy’s shoulder, rubs down his back a bit. “Sounds like she was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Billy says with a sad smile. “Wish you coulda met her, y’know? She would’ve got a kick out of you breaking away from your dad like that.” 

“She was a bit of a rebel too, huh? Reminds me of someone,” Steve shoves lightly at Billy’s shoulder and pulls his hand back. 

“Yeah well. Runs in the family.” 

Silence settles between them again, but this time it’s different. As if they’d just taken the mossiest rocks from the bottom of a stream and used the green to make everything fresh and new. Steve stands and looks down at Billy and he still has the same blond curls, same black eyes and long eyelashes, but it’s like Steve’s seeing him for the first time all over again, breathless and enamored, just like he had been on the day Billy had zipped up Steve’s uniform before playing parrises squares. 

Billy reaches out and takes Steve’s hand. 

He tugs forward on Steve a bit. Steve steps closer, and this is the closest he’s been to Billy without throwing punches. Their knees and shins touch. Billy’s face is near Steve’s belly. 

“Will you.” Billy pauses. His breath ghosts over Steve’s naval. “Will you sleep down here with me tonight? In my bed? I feeling really. Uhm.”

Steve’s heartbeat picks up rabbit fast. “Yes,” Steve says. “Yeah, okay. Me too, I mean.” 

Billy slides over and pulls down the covers -- lets Steve in before pulling them up. 

Steve’s not sure what to make of all this -- he doesn’t know what this means, what it _could_ mean for both of them. But he turns on his side anyway facing Billy. He can see the outline of Billy facing him in the dark, a tiny big of blue light from the interface reflecting in his black eyes. 

“I used to think you were a fucking asshole,” Steve says. 

Billy laughs softly and says quietly, “You were right, King Steve.” 

“I had you figured out wrong. For two years.” 

“Yeah? Well, me fucking too. We were eighteen-year-old dipshits. Go figure.” 

“Thanks for telling me about her tonight.” Steve’s fingers twitch on the bed. He wants to reach out and _touch_.

“Same. Now, go to sleep, asshole. I don’t want to have to wake up to Hammond barking at you through the combadge because you overslept.” 

Steve wants to argue that Hopper told them earlier they could report two hours late for duty, but. He doesn’t. “Night, Billy.” 

“Sweet dreams.” 

Steve’s eyes slide shut easily, and he’s surprised that he can feel this ready to slip into unconsciousness with Billy’s warmth so close, but the long night and emotional catharsis pull him into a deep slumber. 

He wakes with a sharp inhale some time later. It’s late -- the lights are still out, warm blue glow in the room still present. Billy’s face is next to his on the pillow, eyes closed. 

Steve feels it then -- Billy’s fingers trailing lightly up and down Steve’s forearm. Back and forth, a teasing touch that brings goosebumps on Steve’s skin. Something twists inside of him, low in his gut. Needy. 

Billy opens his eyes, looks down at Steve’s lips and _waits_. 

The fog of sleep slips from Steve’s brain and suddenly realization hits him like a wall -- _Billy knows what Steve wants and is letting him take the lead._

Billy smiles because he obviously _knows again_ what Steve was just thinking, the fucker.

Steve leans forward the five centimeters that separate their faces and presses his lips to Billy’s. 

Billy’s fingers touch Steve’s jaw and as Steve kisses Billy gently, and he knows he’ll never forget this feeling as he presses his lips to Billy’s over and over, this feeling that they belong here, in this ship, out among the stars, on a mission of exploration together and then lets the kiss linger, changes the angle and goes in with more pressure, lips parted, and is rewarded with Billy’s tongue touching his lower lip. 

Steve parts his lips for Billy’s tongue, wonders _why_ he didn’t do this before. _Why_ he held out for so long against this when clearly Steve is meant to feel Billy’s curls beneath his fingers. Now that he knows the sound of Billy’s little needy hums from the back of his throat. The way that Billy pulls his tongue back into his own mouth so that Steve can chase it, lick his way into Billy’s mouth. The way Billy tugs on Steve’s forearm, wanting, needing.

Billy pulls back. Places his forehead to Steve’s. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll be fine, okay? I can’t keep my filters up and still do this,” he touches Steve’s lips, “and I know you’re worried. But. _Don’t be_.” 

Billy kisses Steve once, softly, and laces their fingers together. “We’ll be fine. Go back to sleep, _imzadi_.”

With Billy’s hand clutched in his own, Steve feels sleep tug at him once more. 

The next day he looks it up the word while Billy’s in the sonic shower. 

_**Imzadi:** Origin: Betazoid. Meaning: beloved_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tracy7307](www.tracy7307.tumblr.com) on tumblr
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Ch 3 coming on Friday.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah baby?” Billy says, and bites Steve’s lower lip. 
> 
> Billy’s combadge chirps. _Newby to Hargrove_. 
> 
> Billy takes a steadying breath, closes his eyes, and taps his badge. “Here, sir.” 
> 
> _Lieutenant we need you in engineering immediately._
> 
> Billy looks at Steve with sad eyes. “On my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helpful to know for non-Trek readers: there's a brief mention of Reginald Barclay, a lieutenant from _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ , and his intensely ridiculous holodeck program. (that was for my bb, themostepotente)

**Stardate 44528; Earth Date 13 July, 2367 -- USS Hawk**

For any ensign, a large perk of being promoted to lieutenant is moving from shared to private quarters. And one of the downfalls of being promoted to lieutenant, at least for Steve, is having private quarters. Not that Steve doesn’t mind having his own personal space - it’s nice to have a place where he can spend time alone and recharge after the daily drain of drills, rounds, protocols and constantly being surrounded others.

But lately, it seems as though the entire Alpha Quadrant is conspiring to keep Billy and Steve apart since their kiss. 

Steve’s _convinced_ of this -- it is simply fact, as unbreakable as a Vulcan’s logic. They can barely find a moment together. They end up working opposite shifts. Billy’s day off is never Steve’s day off. Two weeks after their first kiss they’re finally able to kiss for a second time, for seventeen seconds, and then Steve’s combadge chirps and Hammond calls Steve in for a security emergency. 

Then Hopper shows up in their quarters, congratulates them on their exemplary service and bestows a new pip on their collars to show their new rank of lieutenant. They’re shown their new quarters and drag their feet a bit along the way. 

In his new quarters, Steve’s just up and showered for the day, enjoying the quiet moments before his shift with his PADD in hand, reading a western. He takes a sip of coffee when his door chirps. “Come in,” Steve says, and Billy strides through in his uniform -- must have just finished up his shift. 

Billy plucks the PADD from Steve’s hand, sets it on the desk, and sits flush against Steve’s side. He leans in and steals a kiss from Steve’s lips. 

Steve settles one hand on the back of Billy’s neck, slides the other up Billy’s thigh. He pulls back for a breath. “Hey. I was enjoying that book. You can’t just come in here and bully me into not reading.” 

Billy kisses Steve’s ear, then his jaw. “Mm. You look really torn up about it.” He returns to Steve’s lips and kisses him deeply this time -- his tongue touches Steve’s once, teasingly, then pulls back. And Steve’s not torn up about it _at all_. 

“Was the book good?” Billy asks as he kisses Steve’s neck, and that’s not fair, because there’s no way he can answer when Billy’s left him breathless. 

Steve takes control of Billy’s mouth and kisses him deeply, tongue hot and probing. Hands fisting Billy’s uniform. Wanting _more_ \-- can’t help the moan that escapes his lips into Billy’s mouth.

“Yeah baby?” Billy says, and bites Steve’s lower lip. 

Billy’s combadge chirps. _Newby to Hargrove_. 

Billy takes a steadying breath, closes his eyes, and taps his badge. “Here, sir.” 

_Lieutenant we need you in engineering immediately._

Billy looks at Steve with sad eyes. “On my way.” 

Steve’s head thumps back on his small sofa. “Fucking fuck.” One hand is still firmly entrenched in Billy’s curls and he misses he sensation already.

Billy steals one more kiss and stands. “Another time, I guess, pretty boy.” 

Steve’s combadge chirps. _Hammond to Harrington_. 

Steve taps it. “Harrington here, sir.”

_I need you to report to engineering._

Steve and Billy share confused looks. “Aye sir. On my way.” 

They make their way to engineering side by side. Commander Newby, the chief engineering officer, is talking with Lieutenant Commander Hammond. At Billy and Steve’s approach, they break apart. “We have a problem,” Newby says to all of them, but then settles his gaze on Billy. “Three minutes ago, the ship started steadily losing speed. Within the last minute we’ve held steady at the same rate -- being dragged at one-tenth impulse. The captain’s tried several maneuvers and can’t seem to break free from the drag.” 

Billy walks over to the interfaces and checks several displays, tapping the screens. “Diagnostics show that all engines appear to be functioning normally. Maybe it’s an external effect.” 

“Just what I was thinking,” Newby says, and taps his badge. “Newby to Hopper.”

_What’d you find, Commander?_

“Everything looks as though it’s running fine. All engines are functioning within expected parameters. We think the drag is something external tugging on us.” 

_Keep me informed of any changes, and come up with solutions, Commander. Get us **out** of this drag. Hammond, keep a security team on hand in engineering. I’m taking us to yellow alert._

“Sir? Could it be an anomaly?” Billy asks as he continues to tap screens. 

“Very well could be, Lieutenant,” Newby says as he fiddles with a control, then checks over the displays in front of the warp core.

Hammond calls in two other security officers and assigns them each a separate part of the engineering room to monitor. Steve scans the perimeter of his area, trying to stay vigilant for -- well, he has no idea. The unexpected. 

He hears Billy in the distance talking to Newby. “Sir, what if we try doing a controlled overload of the warp engines and then try a jump straight to a higher warp level?” 

“Set the controls, Lieutenant. It’s worth a shot. Let’s try warp 6.” Newby taps his badge and informs Hopper of what they’re attempting. 

Billy touches the interface in front of him, reaches down, and pushes three sliding buttons up to raised settings. “Ready, sir.” 

Newby taps his badge. “Ready for jump, Captain.”

The ship lurches forward, and Steve grabs the nearest panel to hold steady.

_We’re back in business. All settings have returned to normal_ , Hopper says happily through the combadges. 

“Woo!” Newby exclaims in the background. “We did it! _Nicely_ done, Hargrove!” 

As Billy accepts Newby’s praise, a circular rift opens in front of Steve, the edges made of a slimy, black skin -- it stretches in a zigzag pattern through the middle of the circle, porous and grotesque. Black clouds float through a foggy red sky on the other side, and a large, shadowy figure crouches on long, dark legs in the distance. It looms over the shadowed treetops at its feet. “Lieutenant commander!” Steve yells, and raises his phaser. 

The demodogs, the same creatures from the cargo vessels, come piling through the hole, tearing through the thin membrane across the middle, their wet gurgling hisses filling the air -- Steve sets his phaser to kill and takes aim. They’re _fast_ and muscular, so some slip by Steve’s blasts.

Hammond and the other security officers open fire and one after another of the dogs fall onto a pile of bodies, petal mouths dangling limp and dripping with strands of thick saliva. Steve stops firing for a moment and glances up to see Billy and Newby trying to approach the portal itself. 

Newby and Billy sidestep bodies of fallen demodogs to get to the sides of the portal. Newby aims a laser welder at one edge while Billy jams his sonic driver into the other. The edges shudder in response, black skin-like material quivering. Steve aims his phaser and fires at the top edge -- it starts to contract in response, closing in on itself. Hammond’s phaser blast joins Steve’s near the top. 

As the rift closes, one of the dogs evades a phaser blast and sprints lightning-fast across the floor. It lunges at one of Steve’s legs while Steve is still firing on the rift. It clamps its mouth around Steve’s ankle, slimy petals wrapping around his flesh, and he cries out as a thick spike of pain shoots through his leg. 

Within seconds, two things happen almost at the same time. Newby grabs a phaser and joins Hammond in firing on the rift, and it then closes up fully just as another dog tries to slip through. At the same time, Billy snatches a phaser from the hands of a security officer who protests as Billy fires on the dog that’s trying to devour Steve’s leg. 

The dog releases its grip and sinks to the floor -- blood gushes up from Steve’s leg. Billy tosses the phaser and starts frantically applying pressure to Steve’s leg -- Steve’s uniform lays tattered around his shin and he’s bleeding in several spots other than the gushing wound, but he’s a bit confused because the pain has stopped. He thinks he must be stunned as Billy rips a part of his own sleeve off to stuff in the gushing wound, pressing down firmly with both hands. “Baby, you okay?” he asks with a shaking voice.

“Yeah, fine,” Steve says, and Billy’s looking awfully pale. 

Hammond taps his badge. “Transporter room, medical emergency in engineering. Beam Harrington and Hargrove directly to sick bay.”

_Ready in sick bay_ , Dr. Owens says through the badge, and Steve feels the odd tugging sensation of being transported. One moment he’s surrounded by dead and dying creatures and the next, he’s on a cot in sick bay with Dr. Owens gently trying to urge Billy away from Steve’s leg. 

“Fuck _off_ doctor. If I let go, he’ll bleed out of this fucking _gash_ here.”

“I appreciate your dedication to him, but you _have_ to let me treat him, Hargrove.” Dr. Owens stands by Billy’s side and Billy glares at him. “Please,” he says and he gestures for Billy to step back. 

“It’s fine, Billy,” Steve says. “Let him in.” 

Billy releases Steve’s leg, and blood starts cascading out alarmingly when Dr. Owens peels back the cloth, pooling down his leg and staining the cot underneath with a large puddle of red. Billy starts to step forward but Dr. Owens holds out a hand. Billy stops. 

The doctor pulls a dermal regenerator wand from the table nearby -- it casts a pink glow as he holds it a few inches from Steve’s leg. Steve feels the strange knitting feeling of skin and tissue being mended back together as the regenerator heals the gash. He moves the wand around Steve’s leg and the other smaller marks left by thousands of tiny teeth heal over.

“See?” Dr. Owens says as he finishes up the last of the cuts. “Just fine.” 

“Thank you doc,” Billy says from behind. “I shouldn’t have been, like, that big of a _dick_ to you.”

“Yeah, no, I get it. Young love and all that,’ Dr. Owens says with a wink. “You’ll be fine, Harrington. That might feel weird tomorrow, so you should take the day off. Doctor’s orders. Rest and relax, okay?”

Steve throws his legs over the edge of the cot and flexes experimentally -- seems to feel okay to him. “Yeah, sure. Thank you, Dr. Owens,” he says. The spot where his leg was just ripped open looks unmarred again, everything back to normal -- even his smattering of leg hair and little moles are in place. It feels a little odd, that part’s true -- a bit of tingling and a bit of tightness. 

They give their reports before they leave sick bay about the attack -- what they witnessed and did from start to end. Billy walks Steve back to his quarters, making their way through silent halls. Everything’s quiet now for the evening shift save for the sounds of the starship at night -- doors swishing open or closed in the distance and the muted conversation in another room of the ship’s computer responding to a crewman’s command. 

It’s almost like there wasn’t just an attack by a few dozen creatures two hours ago. 

Billy reaches down and laces his fingers through Steve’s. “How you holdin up, King Steve?” 

“Just peachy,” Steve says. Runs his thumb over the back of Billy’s hand. 

Billy yawns widely as Steve’s doors swish open. Steve tugs on Billy’s hand and feels sad suddenly -- his day was just beginning before all of this, and Billy’s was just ending. Billy must be exhausted. “Wanna stay here tonight?” 

Billy gives him a confused look. “Didn’t you just wake up a few hours ago?” 

Steve leans in and kisses Billy’s lips. “Been missing you. I haven’t seen you for, like, more than fifteen minutes together in the last two weeks, except for tonight, and I’d hardly count that as like. Quality time, or whatever. So. Yeah, stay here tonight.” Steve tugs Billy to the bed and starts to remove his uniform, which will only end up in the trash anyway given its state. “I’ll lay down with you.”

Billy stretches and starts to tug off his clothing. “Mmm. ‘Kay. Not gonna argue with that.” He slides into Steve’s bed and Steve gets in behind him -- presses his chest to Billy’s back. 

He runs his fingers back and forth over Billy’s arm as Billy’s breathing becomes slow and steady. He thinks of the demodog’s teeth, how they’d felt wrapped around his leg. An image flashes in his mind of how easily the thing had knocked down Hammond -- had him on his chest in the cargo vessel, pinned down to the ground. If the demodog had lunged _a little_ higher. Had knocked Steve down and wrapped its vicious petal mouth around the delicate skin of his throat…

Steve inhales sharply and shifts a bit. Feels the solid warmth of Billy under his arm, against his belly, and hears the voice of Owen Paris, one of his instructors at the Academy, in his head: _don’t weigh yourself down in what-ifs, son. They’re the downward spiral of every security officer._

He’d not entirely sleepy but with the room dark save for the ambient blue light of the interface and Billy’s chest rising and falling gently next to him, Steve drifts a little bit.

**Stardate 44531; Earth Date 14 July, 2367 -- USS Hawk**

Steve’s doctor-granted sick day happens to align with Billy’s day off, so after they sleep for a bit, they shower, eat, throw on some off-duty clothes decide it’s time to check out the ship’s holodeck.

“Which program do you want to do?” Billy asks as they stand outside the holodeck doors. “Parrises squares? Basketball? Bat’leth training?” 

Steve takes Billy’s hand -- picks it up and kisses his wrist. “You know we haven’t had a proper date yet?” 

Billy’s black eyes go a little soft. “No. We haven’t. But you also haven’t introduced me to your famously massive dick yet, so there’s that.” 

“All good things, sweetheart,” Steve says, and gives Billy a little wink. “I had an idea, but. I’m not sure if you’d be up for it.” 

“You wanna fuck in the back of a 20th century muscle car? Because that’s a _strong_ image that your mind screams at me all the time, Harrington, and I could get behind that.” 

Steve gasps. “Stay the _fuck_ outta my head, pervert.” He slaps Billy’s ass, which really is probably what Billy _wants_ , but oh well. “But really -- I was wondering. I’ve never been to Betazed before and thought, maybe, today you could show me what it’s like.” 

Billy pauses and a little smile forms on his lips. He taps the interface next to the door. “Computer, run program Betazed 1.0.” 

_Program complete. Enter when ready_. 

The doors open to a scenic woodland morning, the sky a bit purple and pink as morning fog still circles the ground. There’s the sound of metal clinking nearby, though, and Steve turns to Billy, confused. 

They walk forward a few steps and come to a clearing where a man in an engineering uniform with a receding hairline is engaged in a swordfight with three men dressed like the Three Musketeers. The three men attack him all at once and one exclaims, “You’re _outnumbered_ , Master Barclay. Yield!” 

“Computer, what the fuck is this?” Billy asks. 

_Holodeck program Barclay 1.0_.

“Computer, I said run program _Betazed_ 1.0” 

The four battling men and the forest disappear to be replaced by a bright, blue sky and rolling green hills. _Program complete_. 

“Better. What a weird glitch,” Billy says, and holds out his hand to Steve. “Cmon, Harrington. Come with me.” 

Steve takes Billy’s hand and follows him down the hill. They’re surrounded by vivid, verdant life -- green shrubs, towering leafy trees, fronds that curl and line the bank of a curving river. Birds chirp and fly from waist-high flowers with orange blooms. Steve whistles, long and low. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave.” 

Billy leads Steve to a small clearing in the flowers and sits down. Steve sits next to him -- leans back on his elbows. “This is it, pretty boy. This is the Emrin River. Just down this river is where I had my first kiss, near where we lived. That’s where I attended school,” he points to a mushroom-shaped building in the distance that rises from the ground on a thinner neck. “And this here,” he taps the ground with his hand, “is where my mom would take me after school.” 

“What was it like? Growing up here. I mean how is it different than Earth?” 

Billy leans back next to Steve. “I mean, there’s obviously one huge difference. We could read each other’s minds, so there was no point in trying to hide anything. If someone was upset, we’d sense it immediately and try to counsel and comfort them. So that’s why Betazeds are usually seen as, like, gentle people.” 

Steve laughs. “This is just. So _different_ from what I expected from your background, you know? It’s _soft_. And for the first two years I knew you, you were like spikes and metal.” 

Billy bites his lower lip. “Only got that way after I moved to Earth when I was fourteen. To a father who hates me. Who couldn’t read my emotions and sense that I was hurting. He couldn’t sense that I missed my mom. That he was hurting me. So I acted out and talked back. Got knocked around a lot.” A few tears slide down Billy’s face. “I don’t know what felt worse -- knowing he hated me from his own head, or _no one_ being able to sense how that made me feel. I went from being part of a community to being an island. So I ended up feeling…”

“Angry,” Steve says. It’s all suddenly so clear. 

Billy nods. “Angry.” 

Steve’s heart sinks a little for that scared, sad boy who felt so isolated.

He scoots close to Billy’s side, leans over to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Kisses the damp spots left behind. Kisses down Billy’s jaw, to his lips. Presses him down to the soft ground below, the Betazed sun warm on his back -- the scent of flowers heavy in his nose. Billy’s stubble is rough against his lips and he feels overwhelmed. Feels like maybe he’s right where he _belongs_ , with Billy’s hands sliding down his chest, over his stomach. With Billy’s leg sliding between Steve’s. 

_Imzadi_ , Billy says between Steve’s kisses as they slide against each other. He answers the feeling Steve has in his mind -- the feeling that has not yet made it to his lips. “I think love you too.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve still has the bat’leth in his hands from sparring and he grips it a little tighter -- he hasn’t _felt_ jittery until he sees the look on Billy’s face. 
> 
> “Sir, the particles are infiltrating our shields,” Byers says loudly. The entire ship jars starboard, but Steve’s feet are planted and his hip is braced against an interface. He stays upright while two others on the bridge fall to their right. 
> 
> Hopper scrambles up to his feet. ““Evasive maneuver omega six. Sinclair -- _fire_ ”. 
> 
> The photon torpedoes fire, and a small circle rift opens on the bridge near the turbolift. Five demodogs come bounding toward the crew -- Hammond drops his bat’leth in favor of his phaser and fires twice, missing the first demodog and taking down the second one.

**Stardate 44610; Earth Date 11 August, 2367 -- USS Hawk**

Weeks tick by uneventfully. Steve completes his shifts with no more demodog attacks -- the most exciting thing that happens is when two crewmen drink too much Romulan ale in the ship’s lounge, throw punches over a table, and Steve throws them in the brig to sleep it off. Hopper takes Steve on a diplomatic away mission -- the planet is quiet and the people peaceful and regal. He’s there to just stand and observe as Hopper negotiates trade.

He plays more springball with Lieutenant Commander Byers in the holodeck. Lets Will teach him how to draw in the their quarters, which are small and hung with Will’s drawings and Jonathan’s photographs of his life on Earth, while Lieutenant Commander Byers ( _Joyce call me Joyce_ ) brings him mac and cheese that she made herself and it feels like _forever_ since Steve had non-replicated food. Will draws the Golden Gate Bridge in his sketch pad. 

And Steve draws the flowers of Betazed. 

Billy and Steve catch moments together with they can. A kiss in passing as Steve begins his shift, Billy’s just ending. A date night watching movies in the holodeck in a 20th century movie theater -- Steve chooses some of his favorites: _War Games_. _The Goonies_. _The Terminator_. The movies go mostly unwatched as soon as Billy’s lips touch Steve’s and Billy spills his popcorn when he goes for Steve’s zipper. Steve passes Billy during the second hour of his shift one day and shoves him against the wall of a panel room for a few seconds -- surely the ship can spare him for those few blissful moments, and Billy whispers _feelin a little rough today, sweetheart?_ when Steve pins Billy’s wrists to the wall. 

It’s the end of his shift and Steve’s sparring with Hammond in the holodeck. They’re doing a routine weapons training, today with a Klingon bat’leh -- a curved blade with two points at each end, and three handholds along the back. A weapon made for a warrior, designed for precision and balance. Steve grips it by the handholds and swings it upwards deftly in time to block Hammond’s upper swing. _Hopper to Hammond and Harrington_.

“Both here sir,” Hammond responds.

_I need both of you on the bridge._

Billy is already there when Steve and Hammond step off of the turbolift. Hopper sits in the captain’s chair, leaning back with fist up to his mouth, his gaze fixed forward. “Any chance this is what you saw in engineering?” He points to space outside of the ship. 

There, in front of the Hawk, looms a circular rift the size of a football field. It’s almost exactly like the one from the engineering room -- black skin-like edges with a porous black membrane stretched across the diameter. A red-skied storm swirls on the other side as shadowy trees stand sentinel. 

“Yes sir,” Steve says. “That’s how it looked. _This_ , though.” He takes a step closer to the viewscreen. “This is _much_ bigger.” 

“Hargrove? Do you, uh-” Hopper turns to Billy and taps his temple. 

Billy shakes his head. “I’m not getting any mental readings, sir.” 

“Powell, what do you think?” Hopper asks his first officer.

Powell shakes his head. “Nothin’ good could ever come out of a thing like that, Captain. We need to change course.” 

Hopper sits upright. “Agreed. Lieutenant, set course for-”

“Sir, I’m getting readings of trigenium particles, millions of them, all headed for our ship,” Byers says from behind her interface. 

Billy uncrosses his arms and his face falls. “Captain, there’s a mental signature that’s loud and fucking clear now, and it’s _angry_. It wants to _hurt_ us.” 

On the other side of the rift, the shadow creature rises up from the trees, taller than them by tenfold, and it unfurls long, dark legs, looming above the canopy. Its body lowers down closer to the treetops, crouching, its legs leaving behind swirls of black fog, making it seem as though it’s moving even when halted. 

“Shields _up_.” Hopper’s on his feet now. “Red alert. Sinclair arm photon torpedoes.”

“Aye sir,” says Commander Sinclair.

“It wants to get in here,” Billy says. His normally cool composure has vanished. His black eyes widen and he steps back twice -- looks _panicked_.

Steve still has the bat’leth in his hands from sparring and he grips it a little tighter -- he hasn’t _felt_ jittery until he sees the look on Billy’s face. 

“Sir, the particles are infiltrating our shields,” Byers says loudly. The entire ship jars starboard, but Steve’s feet are planted and his hip is braced against an interface. He stays upright while two others on the bridge fall to their right. 

Hopper scrambles up to his feet. ““Evasive maneuver omega six. Sinclair -- _fire_ ”. 

The photon torpedoes fire, and a small circle rift opens on the bridge near the turbolift. Five demodogs come bounding toward the crew -- Hammond drops his bat’leth in favor of his phaser and fires twice, missing the first demodog and taking down the second one. 

Two demodogs go after the closest target -- Byers. Steve darts after them and swings his bat’leth across the back of the neck of the first one. It falls dead. The second jumps up at Byers but Steve’s too fast, jams a point of his bat’leth between its ribs. It falls heavily to the bridge floor. Byers looks shocked for three seconds before she steels her expression, kicks the head of the one that’s blocking the path to her controls and resumes her position.

Steve looks over to see Sinclair on his back, knocked down with a heavy demodog perched on his chest. Its petal mouth opens and it releases a gurgling hiss -- lifts up its front leg, claws extended. Hopper’s phaser stops it as it swings downward, and Sinclair shoves the limp body off to the side with shaking hands, crawling back away from it.

The ship jars again starboard and this time Steve’s footing is not as sure -- he falls to his knees to see a demodog with its petal mouth wrapped around the arm of Lieutenant Callahan, who screams as blood gushes from the gap between the creature’s mouth and his arm.

Steve pulls his phaser and fires once -- hits the interface behind Callahan’s shoulder. Fires again -- this time hits the demodog, but hits its rear leg. It raises its head and _shrieks_ , the petals vibrating, teeth dripping with blood. One more shot and this time it falls, unmoving under Callahan’s arm that drips blood all over it.

Billy scrambles over and rips the rest of Callahan’s sleeve off from the shoulder and uses it as a tourniquet -- ties it tightly around the top of Callahan’s arm. 

And then, in his peripheral vision, Steve sees them -- tendrils of black smoke snaking from the rift toward Billy. Steve blasts them with his phaser, but it leaves no mark. He grabs the bat’leth a few meters away and swings down, but it glances off and sinks into the bridge floor, and Steve isn’t sure why or how because its consistency looks like _smoke_. 

The shadow slides around Billy’s foot. Billy shoves Callahan aside, drawing the black arms toward himself and away from Callahan, and pushes himself back as the smoke grabs hold, winding up around his calf. Billy kicks at it, but it’s no use -- it molds itself up and around Billy’s leg.

There’s no more weapons at his disposal, and Steve feels his gut sink, feels his entire world crashing around him as he sees the terror in Billy’s wide eyes, and the words _all that training and you couldn’t even save him_ float through his mind. 

He thinks of how Billy’s lips felt under his on the holodeck -- the grass of Betazed under his palms as Billy whispered _imzadi_ against Steve’s neck. 

Betazed. 

Billy has the rum from Betazed in his pocket -- he’d flashed the flask at Steve when they passed each other in the corridor earlier. _Got a treat for you when you’re done with your shift, sweet lips_. 

“ _Billy_!” Steve shouts. “Throw me the rum!” 

Two black tendrils wrap around all of Billy’s midsection now, slowly twisting up and reaching for his neck. He’s able to slide a hand between the coils of the shadow creature, into his pocket, and wiggle the flask free. He tosses it towards Steve’s outstretched hands. 

Steve catches it, twists it open, douses the thickest arm in rum, and then fires his phaser on it. 

The arm goes up in flames and a wild, high-pitched screech fills the air. The tendrils tense up and pull back from Billy’s body and Steve does it again on another arm -- it retreats even faster as it’s engulfed in flames.

Scorch marks on the bridge floor are all it leaves as the shadows slither back through the rift by the turbolift, which cinches closed and disappears. 

As the rift in front of the ship begins to collapse in on itself, the shadow monster still looms over the treetops -- it lists to one side, then the other, before crumpling down into the trees. 

The rift vanishes. 

“No sign of trigenium anywhere, Captain,” Byers says at her station.

Steve goes to Billy and drops to his knees next to him. “You okay?” He tilts up Billy’s chin, runs his hand gingerly over Billy’s abdomen. Black scorch marks twist all up and down Billy’s uniform. 

Hopper’s voice is in the background somewhere, tapping his badge. “Transporter room, medical emergency on the bridge. Beam Callahan directly to sick bay.” 

_Ready in sick bay_ , Dr. Owens replies. 

“I’m fine, Jesus. Harrington, _relax_ ,” Billy says bemusedly and stands. 

Steve’s heartbeat steadies, and he doesn’t realize that his hands are shaking until he sees them trembling against Billy’s face. 

Hopper scrubs a hand down his face and approaches them. “Get to sick bay, Hargrove. Have Doc Owens check you over when he’s done with Callahan. We don’t know what that shadow creature might have done to you or how it might have affected you.”

 

“Aye sir,” Billy says. He squeezes Steve’s hand once before he steps toward the turbolift. 

“For Christ's sake go _with_ him, Harrington. We all know you want to.” 

“Yes sir,” Steve replies. 

When the turbolift doors slide closed, Steve crowds Billy against the wall -- places his hands on Billy’s chest. Feels the warm, thick mass of him under his hands as Billy’s chest expands and contracts with each breath. As he _lives_. 

Steve’s throat feels thick and he tries to stop them, but the tears still slide down from his eyes anyway. Billy wipes them from Steve’s cheeks with his thumbs, and Steve leans down to rest his forehead at the crook of Billy’s neck. He closes his eyes and feels Billy’s breath fanning across his skin. Feels Billy’s curls against his nose. Feels Billy’s fingers clutching Steve’s uniform. 

Only then can Steve bring himself to say it -- with Billy so _alive_ under Steve’s touch. He feels grounded again. “I thought I’d fucked up. That I couldn’t save you. Thought you were gonna _die_.”

Billy tugs Steve forward by his upper arms and presses a kiss to his lips. “Hey, you _did_ save me. And it’s okay. I’m _okay_. I’m not goin’ anywhere, _imzadi_. Yours forever.” 

Dr. Owens checks Billy over -- no sign of trigenium particles, no readings out of the ordinary, and he releases them both to make their reports. As Steve logs his entry, all he can think about are Billy’s words -- something he’s longed to hear since his mother walked out the door, never to return. 

_Yours forever_.

**Stardate 44700; Earth Date 13 September, 2367 -- Risa**

Risa is widely known as a pleasure planet -- and now Steve sees why.

After the attack on the bridge, Hopper tells both Billy and Steve to take a week of shore leave, and shore leave means one thing for many Starfleet officers -- a getaway on the temperature-controlled paradise planet, designed to bring pleasure to all who visit. 

Steve’s eyes light up at the list of activities that the resort has laid out, because deep down in Steve lives the six year old boy who explored the wooded area behind his house at twilight and played with fireflies. And Steve knows that within Billy lives a little boy who rescued pollywogs when he was five, knee-deep in the Emrin River. Still with adventure in their hearts, they look over their options and choose to do nearly everything listed. 

The first three days they’re occupied from sunup to well past sundown. They climb Galartha, the cliff face that changes as climbers ascend. They try snorkeling in Suraya Bay and end up surrounded by schools of fish that glow pink and purple and orange. They spend all day hiking through the Lohlunat Nature Reserve and lie down among the luminescent fauna. They rent a sailboat and take it out for most of a day -- Billy learned how to sail on one of Betazed’s lakes. 

When nighttime rolls around, they soak in the steam pools and sip tropical drinks. They make it back to the room, boneless with exhaustion, hearts filled after all that activity -- and promptly fall asleep. 

Which is not a bad thing, in Steve’s opinion. He knows they both need rest and relaxation, and of course they were bound to see all of these physical activities and want to _do_ them because _doing_ and _playing_ are a part of who they both are -- parrises squares teammates, kinesthetic learners, tweaking, fiddling, sparring, training, always in motion, both of them, always. 

The fourth morning starts differently, though. Because today, they have no plans. 

The tropical breeze pours through the open window and wakes Steve. Billy’s still asleep, his back to Steve’s chest. Steve splays his hand over the warmth of Billy’s stomach -- feels the smattering of hair under Billy’s belly button that leads down below the waistband of his pajama bottoms. Steve trails his fingertips through that hair. Listens to the rasp and feels its coarseness against his fingers. 

Billy inhales and shifts a bit. “Morning, baby,” he says with a little stretch. 

Steve presses a kiss to the back of Billy’s neck. Kisses it again, open-lipped, the faint taste of salt on his tongue. “ _Steve_ ,” Billy says softly, his voice still gravelly with sleep. Steve lets his fingers dip below Billy’s waistband and Billy shifts onto his back, exhales deeply when Steve traces the length of his cock. 

Billy lifts his hips and shoves down his pajama bottoms, kicks them down onto the floor. He reaches to tug at Steve’s, pulling them down past his hipbones. “Off.” 

Steve’s not arguing -- does as Billy says and sits up to shimmy them down and off. His cock juts out, hard already. 

Billy smiles widely and licks his lips -- looks up at Steve with his black irises through half-lidded eyes. His knees fall open, cock lying hard across his belly. _Beautiful_ , Steve thinks. “Come on, King Steve.” 

Steve reaches out to stroke his hand up Billy’s thigh -- he’s always loved the feeling of Billy’s muscular legs under his hands. He takes his time kissing his way up the inside of it, leg hair against his lips, and he licks upward -- nibbles a bit at the tender skin of Billy’s upper inner thigh. “ _Steve_ ,” Billy grinds out. 

Steve slots himself between Billy’s legs, grabs the lube from the ledge next to the bed and pours in his palm. He takes both of their cocks in his hand and starts stroking them -- thinks about how far they’ve come, Billy from his place of anger and grief, Steve from his abandonment and isolation. That they each recognized pain in the other four years ago and try to beat it out of each other with fists. 

Then healed each other with words and with kisses. With love.

He marvels that they can _have_ this, Billy hooking his leg behind Steve’s ass and Steve thrusting into the circle of his hand, twisting a little. He leans down to lick Billy’s peaked nipple -- bites it between his teeth once before returning his tongue to give it long, attentive licks. Billy arches up sharply against Steve and says _fuck_ between gritted teeth.

Billy’s hand joins Steve’s and the extra sensation makes Steve move faster, and Billy starts to tense, his thigh firm on Steve’s hip as he babbles, “Steve, Steve, fuck-” and spills between them. 

Steve’s not far behind and comes over Billy’s belly, over both of their fingers. 

They kiss lazily. The room is thick with the smell of sex -- of their sweat mixed with the natural tropical scents of Risa. 

They’re in no hurry today -- they only get up to shower, use the bathroom, and eat the food they have brought up to the room. Steve sits back against the headboard and presses strawberries to Billy’s lips. Billy’s sitting between Steve’s legs, his back against Steve’s chest.

Steve tells Billy more stories about his childhood -- about ditching school to try smoking behind the groundskeeper’s shed. About when he learned that he had a learning disability -- how his teachers would always help him, but his father never would, and how difficult Academy had really been for him because of that disability.

Billy tells Steve of how his mother broke the Betazed tradition of arranged marriage for children. She’d almost finalized a future marriage between Billy and her friend Faranna’s daughter -- until one day little Billy started talking about how he was in love with Kellan Ailes and his mom put a quick end to the negotiations. 

They talk as the sun dips below the horizon on Suraya Bay, until they’re done with words and Steve fucks Billy on the sofa -- later in the bed. And again in the middle of the night in the shower. 

An hour before sunrise, they wander down to the beach hand in hand kiss to the sound of dark waves washing gently ashore. 

They lie on the sand and look up at the sky. The stars that blink back at them as if signaling a perpetual invitation. The galaxy stretches out before them -- the cosmos theirs, forever, in which to boldly go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was *entirely* self-indulgent and just pure joy to write. I love Trek, and I love harringrove, and it made my heart so happy to bring the two together. To everyone who has encouraged me, left me a kind word or kudos, word warred with me, gave me feedback, and to those who dont even *read* Trek yet came here to read this fic, I thank you. 
> 
> [tracy7307](https://tracy7307.tumblr.com) on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> [tracy7307](http://tracy7307.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> I'd like to thank flippyspoon for the suggestion of making Billy part Betazoid and ketpinqueer for the suggestion of "USS Hawk" as the ship's name. 
> 
> I need to thank _everyone_ from discord chat who word warred with me, which helped me complete this.


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